There it rested, in the same spot it always was in and would be for quite some time. My telephone sat patiently on the on the end of my coffee table, that was beaming with pride of its deep mahogany color. The infernal piece of metal seemed to gaze at me menacingly as it awaited the next move that would surely determine my future.
I paced back and forth monotonously. I had been doing it for so long that all the blends of cream and yellow that adorned my living room seemed to swirl together in a richer egg color. I was baffled as to why I was so at war with myself over something so trifling. Both my options were so simple: call Jay as I had said I would or don't call. If it was that easy, then why hadn't I made a choice even after half-an-hour of arduous thinking?
The golden rays of the sun welcomed itself into my abode, filling the cramped area with its warming embrace; yet I still felt cold. It's light reflected off of my crystal chandelier sending an array of rainbow butterflies fluttering about gleefully; yet I still felt dull. I gingerly approached the window; a transparent cage that kept me captured and locked me away from the blissful, innocent summer.
Crisp, green grass was alive with summertime glory, occasionally dancing to the rhythm of a passing whisper of the wind. Velvety wisps of white drifted through the endless sea of sky, making sure not to rudely cover the sun's path. Colorful blossoms poked their heads through the thick greenery and rested under the guarding arms of great willows and maples.
But past all the fleeting beauty that would soon die by the crisp hands of Fall was one thing that stood proudly and steadfastly with the passing wave of time. Across the sparkling bay was the estate of the one and only, Jay Gatsby. Just looking at it, I felt the warm fingertips of yearning scratching at the layers of frost that encased my amorphous heart.
It stood so strong, reaching nobly towards the sky as it looked over all that quivered beneath it. Yet...whenever I found myself in that massive house, I always felt trapped and constricted by more loneliness than I had ever encountered. All the money in the world could be spent to make that house more extensive, but not a dime could rid me of the emptiness that swallowed me there.
I took a surreptitious glance at my telephone, then back at the house that always protruded my field of view. Without another thought, I tenderly shut the curtains, locking out the sun and ridding the room of the vibrant colors it once contained. I concealed myself from everything that outside world generously offered me in contrast to my current dimly life. But I had no desire for anything anymore. I would continue living my pretty-little life, doing pretty-little things, like the pretty-little woman I was.